Uncle Noah's Christmas Inspiration eBook

The Colonel stopped abruptly, reddened as his eyes
fell upon the negro (Uncle Noah had wisely turned
away), and sternly reseated himself, somewhat confused
by his thoughtless reference to the late lamented Job,

Uncle Noah hobbled from the room, his brown face working
convulsively. In the kitchen he shook with silent
laughter, doubling over breathlessly and clasping
his hands over his stomach in aching distress.

“And what, Uncle Noah,” asked the Colonel
kindly as the old negro presently re-entered the dining-room,
“have we for our Christmas breakfast?”

The Colonel, appearing to be thoughtfully considering
his choice, replied as usual: “It all sounds
delicious, Uncle Noah, but I have a touch of my old
enemy dyspepsia to-day. I think I shall have
some cornbread and coffee, and so will Mrs. Fairfax.”

There was no mistaking the emphasis this time.
Colonel Fairfax darted a lightning glance at the
negro and amended his selection with a question in
his voice. “Well, now I come to think of
it, Uncle Noah,” he said, “my dyspepsia
isn’t nearly so bad. I’ll have, let
me see, oatmeal—­that was in the list, I
believe—­er—­fried chicken—­am
I right?—­muffins, cornbread and coffee.”

There was a conviction in the Colonel’s deep
voice that something extraordinary was afoot, and
Uncle Noah, flurried by its ominous ring, hurried
from the room. Dimly he had pictured his master’s
gracious astonishment and pleasure. Any queries
relative to the financial source of the Christmas
delicacies, however, had been lost entirely in the
darky’s jubilant excitement. Now he groaned
in dismay.

“Yoh is in a mess for sure, Uncle Noah,”
he apostrophized himself. “Whut’ll
yoh do when it come time foh dinnah? Yere yoh
has a Christmas dinnah fit foh a King, an’ de
Colonel he know right well dat we has only a little
1ef from de money whut we done get when we sold de
silver teapot.”

It was Christmas, however, and Uncle Noah felt convinced
that the Providence that had watched so well over
his Christmas Eve would order a special dispensation
for his new dilemma. While awaiting its manifestation
he would studiously avoid the Colonel, and would slip
across to Fernlands, once the pseudo Job was safe in
the oven, and beg the gray-eyed lady to accept a dollar
a week of the grocer’s money in his inspired
scheme of self-redemption.

With this in mind Uncle Noah served the breakfast,
hurried his preparations for the midday feast, and
at five minutes of eleven, the turkey safely roasting,
set out across the fields for Major Verney’s.